Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is a property of J.R.R. Tolkien, not mine. I'm just borrowing the fandom to make you smile.
Characters: Gandalf (Istari, Wizard, Maia), Celeborn (the Wise, Lord of Lothlorien), Elrond (Lord of Rivendell).
Mentioned: Galadriel, Saruman, Cirdan, Earendil, Elu Thingol and the White Council in general.
I\O/I
"No."
"Nay, mellon nin. I'm sure that there is always a place for cultural discussion under bright sky of Caras Galdhon. "
The sky, bright indeed with stars, squinted its metaphorical eyes with mockingly smug expression at the guest of sorceress' forest. Even Earendil seemed to hold its breath.
Celeborn rolled his eyes.
"As long as it does not involve discussion about culture, you are right, my friend."
A heavy sigh escaped the lips of wizard, breaking a merciless silence which fell after that rather outright statement. Gandalf leaned back in chair, fingers tapping against his glass subconsciously and looked his friend up and down with only partially concealed amusement in his eyes.
"You are just prejudiced, Celeborn, admit it," he said. This earned him an icy glare from his companion.
"Nevertheless I am sure that Celeborn the Wise is not going to refuse this small pleasure to a weary wanderer," tried Gandalf after a while once more, looking for any signs of even a slightest give.
"Don't."Celeborn shot him a warning look, cutting him off. "Don't try these tricks on me, Maia. I have already enough problems with a 'golden-tongued' Saruman and his charming debates on assimilation with cultures of Middle Earth. Which, may I remind you, led us tothis dispute here."
"You can convince the Council. You can convince my court. You can even convince my wife. But there is no way I will change my mind."
Gandalf shook his head, disbelievingly, raising his cup in a silent token of surrender.
….I\O/I….
"… and that is how it was," finished Gandalf grimly, filling another goblet of wine.
"He still hadn't forgiven you, had he?" chuckled Elrond. The Hall of Fire, illuminated by fizzling light of fireplace and the stars shining through the windows, was empty now. Most of the residents were sleeping, leaving the hall an ideal place for a talk. Elrond reached out to his own drink occupying the small table next to the wizard. "Actually, I must admit that I am not very surprised." He lifted a cup and took a sip carefully. "During last meeting of the White Council, seven of the mightiest Eldars and Istari of the Middle Earth witnessed a shocking sight of Celeborn's tears. Elven Lords don't admit weakness, especially caused by a pipe, brought by another member of Council from a foreign, northwestern country which almost nobody heard about so far."
"It wasn't 'a northwestern's pipe weed', but the finest, Shire's pipe weed Elrond!" pointed out wizard, hints of hurt dignity audible in his voice. "Southfarthing Shire, I shall add, brought directly from the country of its origin. It is considered the best even among Hobbits!"
"I doubt Celeborn would appreciate the fact even if it was the finest tobacco of Arda," smirked Elrond, taking another sip of his goblet's contents. "Finding your eyes watering because of a smoke is rather humiliating, don't you think? Especially if among those seven eye-witnesses were his wife and son-in-law."
"I have apologized already," grunted Maia, setting his glass with a quiet clink and after a while reaching into depths of his pockets to take out the subject of contention. He lit it with a well-practiced ease. "I just hadn't anticipated that his eyes would react so… badly. Besides, Cirdan had been almost crying too, but he didn't object. Same as you and Galadriel."
"Lady Galadriel is a Noldor," smiled Elrond, also putting aside cup on the table. "She became accustomed to the smith's smoke and steam since her early years in Aman. As for me, this was not the first time I came across such custom. Your Hobbit friends are not the only ones to indulge in smoking. And speaking of Cirdan - this "almost" makes a difference, my friend."
"You did not manage to lift his ban then, did you?" prompted Elrond after the moment of silence.
"I didn't." Istari shook his head grimly. "I am still strictly forbidden to smoke in Celeborn's presence, regardless of place we are in." Gandalf took with one hand pipe out of his mouth, the other one stroking beard in a suddenly thoughtful manner. "I must admit that I have underestimated his stubbornness. There is much more of Thingol in him than I had thought when we first met." Elrond nodded, face solemn despite sparks of amusement visible in elf's eyes. "It seems that it was a good idea not to tell him who was the initiator of those culture-assimilation-side-disputes of the Council, after all."
"Speaking of which," Elrond looked at the wizard with no longer concealed curiosity. "I still can't believe that you managed to talk Saruman into approving this subject. How did you do that?"
A grim smile of satisfaction spread through the face of the Wizard at a memory of that small, yet significant victory, expression dimmed only a bit by the clouds of now so familiar to Elrond smoke.
"You wouldn't believe what can do to Saruman a promise of mediation and guarantee in opening a new trade trail between a certain northwestern country and Isengard…"
….I\O/I..I\O/I….
A/N :
This is an old story which I decided to share with you since it's Santa Claus Day and, also, the anniversary of my first year on FFN. My achievements are austere but very satisfying and I'd like to express my gratitude to all reviewing and supporting me during this year.